


Between the Realms

by HermioneSparta



Series: Their Bond Series [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneSparta/pseuds/HermioneSparta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outtakes from the "Their Bond" series. This is marked as "Complete", as I never know when these outtakes will be added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Passage of Time

******Title:**  Between the Realms

 **Author:**  HermioneSparta

 **Rating:**  M/E

 **Disclaimer:**  The characters and canon situations in the following story belong to Shigeru Miyamoto, Takashi Tezuka and Nintendo.

 **Summary:** Outtakes from the "Their Bond" series.

**[-]**

**[-]**

**The Passage of Time**

_**Lotus Jewel, Chapter Seven**_   _ **(Interlude)**_

I don't remember the rest of the battle. Nabooru, Link, the soldiers…they all tell me magic was my greatest weapon. I was enraged, consumed by fury and grief. I never would have killed so many otherwise.

Zelda had vanished. With that  _demon_.

I try not to think about it. It's too…too  _painful_. I don't care that his army was decimated. I don't care that we had a "success", and will have a few months' respite.

I just want her to wake up.

I'm sitting here - again. By her bed. My hands hold hers, feeling their cool temperature.

It's not supposed to be this way! By the Gods and Goddesses, it's NOT! Children are not meant to fight. I argue with the King daily about this.

Unfortunately…there is no other option. Ganondorf has targeted them. They either must fight, or die.

I blink back hot, bitter tears. I'm so damned  **tired** ofcrying! It solves NOTHING.

"Maderone Impa?"

I wipe my eyes and turn to the healer. No, not a healer, a nurse. Swallowing my anger- why can't they leave me  _alone?_ \- I nod.

"Yes?"

"We need to check her wounds."

I nod again and step away from the bed. My nails dig into my fists, pushing into scars I've made from the very same action day after day. Many times a day, in fact.

They had barred me from the room when I first arrived. Reyel and Nabooru had helped them, the traitors.

I'm trying not to think about  _that_  either. Why I had not been allowed in until the initial assessments and triage had been completed, until she was bandaged and dressed.

I'd hoped it wasn't that bad…

And then I'd seen her lying there, felt her  _stillness_ , and understood. I didn't like it, but…I understood it.

She had retreated. The healers said it was a restorative sleep, similar to a comatose state.

They were wrong.

Zelda had hidden within herself, so far from everyone that even the  _bond_  did not register her presence. Her life force, yes, her existence. But not her presence.

It was terrifying.

The door closes, taking me from my thoughts. I sit beside her again, my hands taking hers.

Warmth.

Startled, half-afraid, I turn inward again.

Fleeting, but…there.

Whatever the nurse had done, my Charge had  _felt_  it. Had  _responded_.

I'm too tired to be jealous or relieved. I just…want her to wake up...


	2. Reaching Out

**Reaching Out**

_**Lotus Jewel, Chapter Four (Life's Lessons III-IV)** _

A shuddered breath left his lungs, stirring the air with such force quills blew from his desk. Leaving them to drift on whatever current there was, he closed his eyes. Head cradled in his hands, he struggled against the fatigue which threatened to crush him.

By the Gods, he was scared.

The Golden Mothers had blessed him with a beautiful daughter when they called his wife home. Yet it was the Fathers he sought now. The three men who grew from boys to fierce warriors every season, transitioned from lover to widower as the year waned. Who but They would understand his difficulty?

There were no others he could ask.

Whispered prayers fell from his lips as the similarities became so. Startling. Clear.

Her features were softer than her mothers, rounder. Green eyes - slate if provoked - replaced blue. But otherwise, she was her mother's daughter.

The same loving spirit. The same open heart. And the bedamned will of iron.

So very strong…yet so very,  _very_  fragile.

His wife had looked at him with that same frightened expression, that same vulnerability once. Once she realized he could be trusted with self she hid behind that diplomatic mask.

He wasn't sure when he'd first noticed it. Probably over years, his awareness had grown along with their relationship.

His heart - his beautiful warrior of a daughter - didn't trust him. It was a brutal truth he'd had to swallow long ago. He knew it was his own fault, putting the country before her.

And yet…dear Fathers, was there any shame in coveting what he could not have? His daughter trusted her nurse more than him. Granted, she was a Guardian, but…he didn't care. Not now, not when her words still rang in his ears.

" _You cannot accuse Impa of mistreating me without hypocrisy. Is my future no less important than my present? Do I not receive a say in how I will live my life?"_

His wife was - had been - softer than his daughter. A fighter, yes, but not a born warrior. She had not been central in a war since her childhood, had not endured years of battle and pain for the sake of her country.

What would she say?

If nothing else, she would understand his reaction.  _She_  would be able to say he'd only been trying to protect her.

He hadn't believed it, when Impa had told him. Yet when she'd commented on the exact nature of…actions…he'd known she spoke the truth.

But so too had his daughter. He'd looked in her eyes and seen such  _pain_ , such  _anger_  that he couldn't  _not_  believe her.

And the fear. The very real terror which had shadowed her fiery eyes could not be faked.

It had been a mistake, whatever "it" was. It had not been an act of…of lust.

Letting out another sharp exhale, he scraped his nails across his scalp. Tears burned his eyes, and for once, he let them run free.

He had failed her as a father and as a ruler. He did not know the woman she had become and couldn't truthfully say he'd ever known the child.

Triforce? Magic? Prophecy? Bonds? These were subjects left to the priests. He knew they existed of course. He'd seen magic often enough, living in Hyrule. And the Sages occasionally requested an audience.

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the first time he'd seen Saria after Link had come to live with him. With them. Plants had burst to life around them, balls of green energy left wherever she had "teleported" to and from.

But the rest of it…he didn't understand it. Little bits of magic were rather…common in the country.

How did you respond when your child, barely five, solemnly looked you in the eye and described war? When she told you the "bad man" who had just left was black hearted and possessing a soul cold enough to freeze Snow Peak solid?

When the same child showed you her hand, the shape of a Triforce gold in her skin, outlined in black and purple? When the lone Sheikah female guarding her told you things better left to myth?

Over time, he'd begun to simply…take their advice without question. Theirs, and the Sheikah's. The other Sages' too, to a far lesser degree.

He supposed at some point he'd placed his daughter on a pedestal. How painful it had been when she'd "fallen" in his eyes. It was he who'd placed her so high above mortals. And as always, there was  _only_  himself to blame when the truth came to light.

His daughter was not a Goddess. Merely…a young woman struggling to live in their tremulous world.

Rubbing his chest, he grimaced and took another deep breath. As he wiped his face with a clean handkerchief, a strong rap broke his thoughts.

"My lord? The Secretary of Foreign Affairs has arrived."

Swallowing against the fresh tears which burned anew, he cleared his throat. "One moment, sir, then send him in."

Glancing at the closed doors, he wished the day was over. He was simply…so tired of it all.

Could they rest soon? Any of them?


	3. Dust and Gold

**Dust and Gold**

_**Pre-Series** _

Cracked, calloused fingers ran over soft, warm flesh. A breathless moan escaped wet lips as eyes, glossy with pleasurable confusion, widened.

"Beautiful," a husky voice whispered.

Harsh wind rattled the windows, striking them against sun-baked stone. Only the sound of their hushed voices could be heard within the room, the storm outside blocking all other noise.

Trembling hands found golden, day-kissed skin. Mimicking the gentle caress, they traced unseen paths. Clumsy instinct rather than knowledge guided the touch, eliciting a breathy chuckle.

"That's right."

Softer and far smaller than hers, his hands found a rhythm all their own. Matching every one of her strokes with his, he explored her.

Their private world, it all bled together. Shapes became a blurred pallet of color, until only the strongest hues remained. Eventually, the feel of each soft brush eclipsed even those bright colors.

There was only the color of her skin. Like the desert sands, it was bronze-gold in the firelight. Her hair, as dark as the night sky their singular room rested below, hid her face as she bent forward to capture his lips.

A fissure ran through him. Pleasure? Excitement?

An eons-old cycle, one as old as the first organism, enacted itself that night.

And days later, when he asked her in the light of another night's fire what "they" were, he watched those flames dance in her eyes.

"You're mine."

He didn't mind that.

"Are you mine too?"

When she kissed him, her fingers combing through his hair, he didn't think about the fact that she didn't answer.

Because it had all become a blend of sound and color and  _touch_  'til he passed out from it all.

And yet…it would be over a decade before a such a declaration could be made.

Or accepted.

But it didn't matter. Because by then, she was dead. A training accident, they had said.

He'd found her in bed with another.

And she'd been  _his_.

He didn't share well.

Fingers wrapped around a goblet spiked with her "special" wine, he watched the Beltane celebration with hooded eyes.

That night, he slept in the bed of Din's Desert Priestess.

He'd learned discretion long ago. No others knew of their liaison.

He'd always wondered if his cousin had known. She'd kept telling him he had a few more years before his first rites, before he could pick a lover.

He wasn't a man yet, she oft reminded him. Not in terms of their tribe's customs.

Some part of him was too fond of her to shatter that illusion.

[-]

[-]

**Songs:**

Howard's Tale by Sick Puppies

Centuries by Fall Out Boy


	4. Red Lion's Roar

**Red Lion's Roar**

_**Lotus Jewel, Chapter Four (Life Lessons IV)** _

Ravaging grief stole her voice, pulling the very air from her lungs. Her heart beat a ragged tempo within her chest, broken.

Tears burned her eyes, refusing to fall even as the world became a watercolor blur. Light dimmed as darkness claimed her thoughts, a shadow within the moonless night.

_He was dead he was dead he was dead!_

Her knees shook before failing entirely. She fell to the cold, hard ground with a muted thump. Her body trembled as her numb fingers dug into the thick grass, seeking an anchor.

"Daddy…daddy!"

The word wrenched itself from her swollen throat, escaping in shattered syllables.

"Daddy!"

A sob followed the useless title, tears hitting her hands. Within her mind, there was only a child's scream of agony and confusion.

He wasn't supposed to die!

He wasn't supposed to...to  _leave_ her!

"I'm s-sor-rry dad-daddy, 'm sor-sorry!"

It was all her fault, all her fault! He died because she didn't love - appreciate - him enough. Because his heart couldn't handle her rejection, her anger.

She'd killed him!

The loss ripped through her, threatening to drown her.

It was a pain which would never end.

Because…he was her daddy. The only one who had ever loved her, unconditionally. Even when he was her Father, he was still her daddy.

Maybe he hadn't shown it like other fathers. He hadn't taken her on picnics or framed her childish drawings, but he'd loved her.

Absolutely.

Irrevocably.

Hyrule mourned their King, their commander.

But only Zelda mourned her father.

"Daddy!"

Impa watched the heartbroken Queen wail, heedless of the drizzle soaking her cloak or the mud staining her dress.

Wiping away her own tears, she cast her eyes around the small graveyard.

She couldn't take away the other woman's guilt nor lift her sorrow, but…she could give her a moment's peace  _to_  grieve.

It may be the only thing she could do.


	5. Mechanism

**Mechanism**

_**Lotus Jewel, Time Unknown** _

Her hand trembled, her knuckles white as her fingers sought further purchase. The ache which permeated every inch of her body threatened to eclipse her mind, sending a shudder of protest through her.

Darkness painted windows and walls, hiding the scarred stone. Her eyes sought some point of focus and found only endless shadows. Even mage light could not dispel the night which engulfed her.

A choked sob wrenched itself from her as a hand laid upon her shoulder, breaking the spell.

Another's touch – a grounding rod within the vile storm of corruptive magic – was all it took.

The sword fell from her grasp, spinning as it bounced at her feet.

The room waved and vanished as her eyes closed. Her knees buckled, sending her weight into him.

He caught her, holding her close even as they both sunk to the ground. Their blood mixed as his wounds brushed hers.

Unavoidable, given their proximity.

His breath escaped in a wheeze when her elbow drove into broken ribs. Blinking back tears, he swallowed hard and gripped her biceps firmly.

"Link…I…I'm sorry. Did I…hurt you?"

He held her still, waiting for the black spots to clear from his vision before speaking. "A bit. Just…careful, ok?"

"Ok."

Her quiet, meek response made him curse the Gods and Goddesses. Damn Them. Damn Them for putting the two of them on this bloody path. It was not enough to sacrifice their childhood and their health – no, They demanded more. They demanded heart, soul and mind.

What other could They have for doing this?

For what other reason could They justify such horrors?

"Don't…" she squeaked when his nails dug into her bruised flesh.

He released her, mumbling an apology as she scooted away. Well…as "away" as she could.

The agony which blazed across her face was a match to his own.

"I should have killed him," he whispered between coughs as he pressed a hand to his ribs.

She watched him search his satchel for potions, ignoring the bandages and other medical supplies which fell free.

There was no response to give. What could she say? That he was right?

If it were that simple, they wouldn't  _be_   _here_. He wouldn't have had to meet her just outside the camp.

Here, hidden by the Master Sword's resting place, she allowed her tears to fall.

They couldn't do this forever.

 _She_  couldn't.

Closing her eyes again, she rested her head against the stone pedestal.

They were safe here.

Maybe…maybe it was ok to sleep for a little while.

Just…for a little while…


	6. Reprieve

**Reprieve**

_**Lotus Jewel, Time Unknown** _

Wearily, warily, he rubbed a scarred hand over his face and stared at the fire. A broken, staggered breath escaped his exhausted body with obvious reluctance.

What day was it? What  _year_?

He didn't know anymore.

He didn't even know how  _old_  he was.

It all…bled together into a haunting cycle of melodies and battle.

"I thought you were asleep," he said when the sound of shuffling boots met his ears. Midna and Navi had vanished to some pools nearby, leaving him to his morbid thoughts. Something about concentrated shadows and fairies in a two mile radius being rare…he hadn't really understood it.

Or wanted to.

As long as they left him alone for a few hours, he  _really_  didn't care what they did.

Shad sat beside him, disheveled and bleary-eyed. His glasses were missing and a shadow of beard made him look far older than his years.

In short, he looked like Link felt.

And it helped, to know he wasn't the only one being ground into the dust by it all.

"I was. I just…couldn't stay asleep. There's too many things on my mind, I suppose."

"Did I tell you about the Oocca?"

"Mm, yes." Lulled by the night's song and fire's heat, Shad paid little thought to the man beside him as he dug through his pockets. It took but moments to find the tiny box and place the rolled paper between his lips. He lit it with a stick, sighing in pleasure as smoke filled his lungs.

"You…smoke?"

Smiling at the confused tone, he nodded. There was little modesty or shyness to be had this late at night, when reality and imagination became one.

"It's relaxing," he said as he leant back on his elbows. "And sometimes it helps me keep up on work. The Resistance needs more than a librarian, you know."

Eyes on the innocently glowing bundle of spicy-smelling herbs, Link nodded in understanding. Shad was no warrior, but there was  _something_  in those intelligent eyes that betrayed the strength within.

"Want to try?" came the question. Brown eyes met blue, a smile widening with good-willed humor and mellow pleasure. "It won't hurt you anymore than those potions you've been downing. My promise."

Sharing a laugh, Link took the proffered item and let Shad arrange his fingers properly. He drew in a deep breath, choking instantly as his lungs seized. Stomach heaving at the after-taste, he nearly gave it back.

Nearly… But not yet. The night's oppressive weight lessened as the ghosts within his soul quieted. Blinking in confusion, in shock, he looked between the item– blunt, Shad called it– and the man himself.

"I feel…"

Warmth spread through him, different from the fire's heat yet so very pleasurable.

It was like the most loving embrace and best laugh you've ever had rolled into one. Indescribable, understandable to only those who've experienced it.

Following Shad's instructions, they passed the small roll between them until it was gone.

And when the sun rose hours later, bringing Midna and Navi with it, there was hope in Link's eyes.


End file.
